My Collection of One-shots for The Houses Competition, Year 5
by Florence GJW
Summary: So, just as the title stated. This collection is for the competition, still, if you like it, just click and read, review, follow and favorite. Enjoy! And I can't help but choose Romance as Genres 1, hope you like romances:)
1. Round 1 Standard

Prompts: Character :Poppy Pomfrey;

Speech: How is it possible that someone as intelligent as you can be so unfathomably dense?

Object: Prefect Badge

Word Count: 2000

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Story Category: Standard

Warning: teen pregnancy(and said teen has some complications with it), same sex

Relationships

Thanks to BetterYouThanMe who helped me beta this story!

**月色与雪色之间 你是第三种绝色**

I've been working in Hogwarts for the past several decades. It's the kind of job that is neither too good or too bad, you know. I can't earn a lot here, like in St. Mungo's. On the other side, if I don't know how to heal a student, there's always St. Mungo's .

Less to fewer expected a lot of the school infirmary, which means less challenges for me. I don't like challenges, usually, I mean. Except for that one time.

_It was late in the night. I had already gone to bed, thinking it would be a plain night, might be a little dull even. I had turned off all the lights, the starlight and moonlight would be enough for the night—in case I want to get some water if I feel too thirsty. Sometimes I do. After my husband's death, insomnia became a problem. For those nights that I found difficulty in falling asleep, I took a dreamless potion, and I would have a sound sleep. However, I couldn't take a dreamless potion every day, it would poison my nerves. Thankfully, there were still some nights that I could fell asleep. Often, those nights saw me woke up in the middle, panting, my whole body dripping in cold sweat. Then, I spent the rest of night crying, with a silencing spell on, of course._

_I didn't want anyone know of this, not my fellows, and not my students._

_Strangely, as if waiting for something to happen, I didn't fall asleep and I didn't take the potion. I just stared at the starry night, from my window, chilling out. _

_As if in a horrific movie, from somewhere faraway, a set of footsteps, hurried ones, was sounded. The footsteps sounded louder and louder, till they stopped before my doors._

_Knocking._

_For a second or so, I didn't even register that sound. I just lie there, staring at the door dumbfoundedly, didn't know what to do. _

_Then I picked up my wand from the nightstand and flipped it. The door swiped open, revealing a girl and a boy. The boy was floating the girl behind him, looking aghast._

"_Mrs. Pomfrey?"The boy was out of breath. Yeah, I let them call that, even if my husband was dead. I still wanted myself to be Mrs. Pomfrey, I guess._

_I put the girl on a bed near my own. "My girlfriend was pregnant, and she wasn't feeling very well."The boy looked at a loss of what to do, though he told me all of that without hesitating. _

_In fact, I would like to kill the boy right away. How could he? The girl still had some time to finish her study. Even if she was a seventh year, she had to endure all these for half a year._

_Instead, there was more pressing matter to tend to. I sighed, running some spells on the poor girl. She had already fainted, her face drained of any color. _

_My spells told me that she was in danger of miscarriage._

_I hissed, telling the boy to go off, and started casting spells after spells. For girls like her, miscarriage could mean too much danger! Miscarriage in the process of her growth could mean harm to her body, and in turn, the baby's. To treat this, meant you had to be especially careful, and skillful, very challenging for a doctor._

_As I had said, I didn't particularly like challenging diseases, I preferred those that could be cured quite easily. On that night, to my own surprise, I decided to rescue the poor girl myself._

_I stripped her off her clothes, they would get in the way of what I was going to do. In the progress, I found a prefect badge pinned on her robe. _

_Oh, a prefect. _

_When I had been a student, I never had the honor to own a prefect badge. Sometimes I couldn't help myself but envy those girls who own one, pinned on their chest, walking in Hogwarts like they own the place._

_Oddly enough, I put her badge carefully in my pocket, maybe I should keep it for the girl before she came around. It was such a precious thing for a school girl._

_That night, I tired myself out trying to take the girl back from Merlin. It was not until the sun was high that I finished my work and the girl looked a little bit better._

_When I opened the door, the boy was there, looking anxious, worrisome, clearly, he loved the girl dearly. Along with him, the headmaster and professor Sprout were discussing something before I appeared, and they stopped seeing me. _

"_The girl will be fine." I informed them, standing aside to let them come in. Despite the headmaster and a professor were here, the boy rushed in, flew himself to his sweetheart and kissed her on the lips, soundly._

_Then, he spun around in a sudden, snapped at me: "What about our child? What did you do to it?"_

"_It's in good condition."I assured him, sank in a chair. I found it hard to keep my footing. I must have been standing for too long. _

_These days, I was always reminded that I was not that young anymore._

"_Poppy, would you like to have a word?"Professor Sprout asked me. I nodded and tried to stand up, which I failed and collapsed in my chair._

_She patted my hand, saying that was okay and pulled a chair near me._

"_You don't look well, Poppy."Her concerned voice. She was always like that, caring and warm._

_I shook my head, saying I was fine, just lack of sleep and all that hard work._

_Dumbledore came and told professor Sprout to go get the girl's parents. They should be informed of this, I didn't think of that. I was out of my mind last night._

"_Poppy, are you sure the girl will be okay? I don't have any doubt in your ability, of course. It's that we usually treat these."He pointed to the girl.' Troublesome cases not in this way. You see, I would like to have St. Mungo's treat the girl.__" __the old wizard suggested._

"_I'm qualified enough. And she's a student here, she should receive help from me." I insisted. This patient seemed interesting to me somehow, that I was willing to risk my career for her. At least for that moment, when the prefect badge was in my pocket, and I could feel it pressing hard against my fingertips._

"_How is it possible that someone as intelligent as you can be so unfathomably dense?"Albus wasn't quick-temper, but at that very moment, he wasn't his normal self, neither were I. "You have done these kind of things for many times, Poppy. You know how to do this-contact them, tell them about the girl, saying you are unable to do anything to her, and she would be in the hospital. You know it, Poppy. Too dangerous for the infirmary and too dangerous for Hogwarts. If, accidentally, the girl die or the baby die, it can mean trouble! It may let the whole world question about Hogwarts, and its operation. In hospital, she will receive more better treat than here, and they could shoulder the responsibility if anything were to happen."_

_I always knew that Dumbledore did everything for the greater good. How could he care about each student if he had that ambition in his mind?_

"_I said she will be fine, I'm sure of that. Don't you question me about this. You know that I'm under instruction of the ministry, not you, headmaster."I crossed my arms before my chest, trying to end the conversation._

"_Fine."He flipped his robe, and strode away._

"_Madame Pomfrey?"The girl was looking at me. Her boyfriend was at her bedside, drifting off. _

"_Yes, what's the matter, darling?"I took down some potions from the shelf, using a pallet to take them to the girl. "Drink them."_

_She listened to my instructions, thankfully, and drank all of them without putting on a face. She was cute._

"_How are you feeling?"I started running another set of spells. The result was relieving._

"_I feel much better, madame."The girl looked down, blushing, her fingers crossing."So, you know I'm, I'm pregnant?"She glanced up once she finished, nervously._

_I chuckled. For a whole month since my husband's death, I hadn't smiled a little bit. I was astonished myself. "If I didn't know, you wouldn't feel better, darling."_

_The girl nodded, thinking…"And, the baby?"_

"_The baby is fine by now, though I couldn't say that for the next time."I reminded her. "Your body wouldn't be able to take it another time."_

_That was partly the truth why Dumbledore hoped the girl would be in St. Mungo's. These things sometimes happened not once, but twice, even more. It could mean death to her._

_What he didn't know was St. Mungo's didn't have any better method to cure her than mine. If she was destined to be in miscarriage once more, I would prefer to have her here, under my eyes. _

_I stared at the girl, lost in my own thoughts._

"_Thank you, madame. I know what would happen if it's not for you…"She trailed off, obviously not accustomed to saying thanks. A shy girl, then._

_I beamed at her. She had the ability to make me grin."You are welcome. It's my work."_

_Or, was it? I questioned myself. _

_For the rest of the winter holiday, she stayed in the hospital wing, sometimes with her boyfriend and her parents, sometimes herself. (Her parents weren't too happy about the fact, but they accepted it anyway. )_

_When she was alone, she always kept me accompany. Telling jokes for me, showing me her photos, and sharing her life. It was not like any student would be that open up to a professor figure, adding to the fact that she was extremely shy, yet, she told me all of her life. Her happiness and her sadness. Her everything. For a split second, I thought she might want me to know her like someone that would accompany her to death, like, like her lover._

_And I laughed at my ridiculous thought. Though, sometimes in the night, when I found it hard to sleep, I would peek out of the curtain, and watch her sleeping on the other side of the curtain. She breathed in and out, her chest rising and falling, so peaceful, and so very attracting._

_And I feel that prefect badge inside the pocket of my robe, asking me:' Why didn't you return me to my master?' _

_And I didn't. I never had._

_The girl sent me a Christmas gift that holiday, a book on how to deal with pregnant witches. Her note said that she would like me to help more students if they have the same trouble like her._

_I smiled bitterly. She would never know that she would be the only student that I would like to help. No matter how many there were._

Another Christmas. I clutch the prefect badge in my hand. A badge I never had as a student and a badge I never own as her, her what then? I'm not sure.

And what am I to her? I don't dare to ask her.

She still send me a variety of Christmas gifts after all these years. Nothing better than the badge in my hand. Nothing more close to her like the badge, right on her chest, under where her heart was pumping.


	2. Round 1 Drabble

Prompts: [Prompt]:Failing a test

[Event]: Waking up with a cockroach on your skin

[Emotion]: Victorious

Word count: 943

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Thanks to BetterYouThanMe who helped me beta this story!

**谁能凭爱意要富士山私有**

If you saw Draco, who graduated from Hogwarts recently, you would sense there was something off about him. He was conceited before, an arrogant git, and a bully. At that time, before the war I mean, he had a prosperous family, a pureblood family, which was such an honor to him. He began a sentence like:' My father…" or "I will tell my father…". That's when Lucius Malfoy, the legend in his son's eyes, was a high member in the ministry and had a huge amount of money to let him do almost anything he wanted. Or Draco wanted, like buying all the brooms for Slytherin team to let his boy in.

He was kind of a great father, but far from a perfect one. He was strict to the Malfoy heir. Since the poor boy was born, he had went to great length to train him. The day before the boy went off to Hogwarts for the first time, Lucius told him he was the one to get the highest mark. That wasn't a question or a hope, that was a order. And when they hadn't met that witch, it seemed so easy to get the highest mark.

Unexpectedly, a muggle-born witch, Hermione Granger, stole away everything he tried to achieve since he could barely read and write. That girl was the brightest witch the wizarding world had ever seen. Even though she hadn't even known about the magical world before she turned 11, she had no problem with learning magic. She accepted the concept without prejudice and adapted to the new world quite swiftly.

For the following 7 years, Draco never got the highest score in Hogwarts. Until their eighth year, after the war, when the blonde's parents were locked up in Azkaban and he had to live alone. He threw tantrums like a three years old, he cried, kicking his legs, he smashed all the things he could reach in the manor. Still, he couldn't get his parents back.

And he had lost it.

The thought of getting the highest score in his grade just couldn't go away. He kept studying into the night, sleeping in the library till Madame Pince woke him up. Sometimes he forgot to eat or drink, only to be sent to the hospital wing as he fainted.

The oddest thing was Hermione Granger failed a test. Yeah, you read that right. When the headmistress announced that Hermione Granger was to graduate with a P in Potions, the great hall was filled with whispers.

Among the eighth years, only he and Hermione Granger had taken potions. Though he himself found it difficult to achieve an A in the subject, he thought Hermione was much better than he was. Even though he didn't want to admit that.

Nevertheless, he felt a sense of victory swelled in his heart. For all his years spent in Hogwarts, it was the first time that he had got a higher score than that muggle born.

He laughed, smashed his fist on the table. Tears rushing down his face. Eventually, he had achieved what his father had told him to do all those years ago. His parents would have been so pleased to see he had become such a brilliant young man.

It might have been the best day in his life. He felt himself floating, far away from the actual world. Grinning, simply because his mouth couldn't stop twitching and being open, wide open. He danced, singing a familiar song his father sang to him once on his fifth birthday.

He didn't know that the students had started to stare at him, pointed at him, laughing. And he didn't know a pair of brown eyes was fixed on him, sad, begging him to stop humiliating himself.

Hermione wasn't about to wake up at 1 o'clock in the morning. She felt her temple itching and scratched, nope, still itching. And the sense was moving, from her temple, down to her eyes, and later arrived to her nose.

Although she was sleepy, she felt the need to open her eyes and solve the problem. So she flipped her wands and murmured: "Lumos."

The bushy haired girl gulped at seeing a blonde so close to him.

"You are a loser, Granger, you know that?" The man smirked triumphantly. He was so handsome, with half of his face lightened up by the dim light from Hermione's wand. The pale skin, pale blond hair. Black robe buttoned up to his neck, near the Adam's apple which moved up and down when he was speaking to her. The glint in his eyes, so delighted and charming.

It was like the dream she had been having since she was very young had come true. Waking up with someone you love by your side was always too good to be true, especially when you love someone that couldn't ever love you back.

Her face felt hot. She tried to savor every split of a second, in her dormitory, at 1 o'clock, with Draco looking at her, talking to her.

"Scared out of your wits? I should have thought you couldn't pass the potions exam." His fingertips brushed over her skin, like feathers, to get the cockroach away. Like he really cared about her.

"In case you are gonna scream." He went out of her dormitory, never looking back.

All strength left her.

She should have known even if she failed the test and let him win this time, he wouldn't pay her that much attention, but seeing him so joyful would always make her grin like a fool.


	3. Round 2 Standard

Category: Standard

Word count: 2366

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Prompts: [Action] Casting a sleeping curse

[Paring] Fleur Delacour/ Victor Krum

Warning: OOC, different plots from the books& the movies, crime, love between Fleur/Victor/Harry, though not muilti.

**自离别刹那 今生停顿了吗**

Dim streetlight. Smoke stubs scattered across the wet floor. A man was leaning on the wall, his eyes puffy, red-rimmed. He was strong built, high, muscular, a bit fat if you look closely, like an athlete. He was one himself years ago, when he was still in school, in Durmstrang. He was a world famous Quidditch player who had once been to a world cup even. In those old times, the media told the whole world he was a talented Quidditch star that would bring his country honor one day. Sometimes he thought, proudly, that he was that person, he would be a great athlete, a dream he had been dreaming since he was very young.

No. He didn't have his way. He had to quit and live in hell. He had to. Some fans could still recognize him when he was on the street, and they said they were terribly sorry for him. They were compassionate, and they believed that he hadn't done anything in that competition.

That was wrong. They had such confidence in him that he felt sorry for them to be his fans, to adore him. He had done that, there was no doubt of that. He did it himself, every each part of it, from buying the poison, to putting it in another player's cup and stirring to make it melt, watching him drinking it obliviously. Said player was about to compete against him for the seeker of the world.

When that man did drink the water with poison in it, he felt relief, anticipation, excitement, agitated and maybe, okay, just a bit guilty. He couldn't deny that he didn't want to do it that way. He didn't want to drug another player before their match so to force him to lie down because of dizziness. Still, he felt he had to. He should be the champion. He should be, for all those days and nights he spent practicing while dreaming about his bright future.

He couldn't allow himself taking the risk of losing the competition.

He should be and he didn't. He was found out and sent into jail.

For the past ten years, the golden age for him to play Quidditch, he was locked up in jail. No flying, no Quidditch playing and no girls drooling at him. Only dementors would like to visit him every day, seemingly smirking at him under their huge black cloak.

Often, he lay on the bed, curling, with the overcoat wrapped around him, to keep him warm in the night and rainy days, snowy days. Like someone old, someone bedridden.

He couldn't defend himself against those creatures, so he had to relive that scene over and over. How he did it, how the other fainted, how he felt, how he was found out and brought to a court. Sometimes, he couldn't even pin down where he was. Was that really his memory? Was that something truly happening?

The nightmare was going on and on for the past decade, yet, he couldn't get used to them. He found it hard to sleep every night, and he found himself quickly decaying as a result.

When he was finally out, he seemed like a middle-aged man, with sagging skin, beer belly, and a bald head.

Time didn't do him justice.

He couldn't find himself a job, couldn't make his living. All he knew what to do was Quidditch, and his body couldn't allow him to do too much exercise in its current state. He had forgotten nearly everything he learnt in Durmstrang, he hadn't learnt them very well in the beginning, to be honest.

He could only find some part-time job like a shop assistant, a help in a company when it's holiday, and acting as a Santa Claus for children to take a photo with.

He knew that his life would be like this, duplicating this bored to death daily routine. Till one day he fell ill or drop dead, in the shabby apartment he was living or in a dark corner somewhere. To be found in the next week or the next month. Post on the newspaper if he was lucky enough.

The last chance he would be famous.

Funny, huh? All because the wrong deed he had done years ago.

Who could promise not to do anything wrong in their long life? Why had he to be like this?

He inhaled deeply of the overwhelming, delicious scent of smoke, the company of the rest of his life.

Or, he thought so at that moment. When he hadn't put any thought into that blonde. Not any blonde you meet on the street, she was the one special for him.

Someone especially for him, as he thought when he was still a student, in the Triwizard Tournament.

Sure, she was a veela, who was supposed to seduce people. Yet, he couldn't help but fall into her. Fall into that depth of her azure eyes.

Each detail about her could be seen in his mind. The cobalt blue one-piece dress she liked to wore in balls, the navy jeans she preferred to wear when she was on holiday; the way she wear her hair down; her olive brown boots up to her knee, those boots that made crouching sounds on snow. She didn't wear any make up, just herself, the perfect perfection.

And she had won more boys' hearts, more than he could stand. How he envied everybody came close to her, to smell her scent, to see her in that close proximity, to look into her eyes without her perplexed impression, to talk to her, to let his or her breath to be in the near air of hers.

She might have breathed in the air they breathed out.

He felt sick, disgusted at himself, and he couldn't help but hope that the air he breathed out could be around her, and, if fortunately enough, for those molecules to get into her mouth, or to touch her lips. Those red lips he dared not to touch with his hands, let alone his mouth.

Was it love at that time, or simply some obsession, infatuation, a period of thing his friends thought to be?

Everything was just as it should have been. Like, he watched at her in the great hall, in the library, in classes, and in his dreams. Those teenagers' dreams had given him so much hope for their future, so promising.

He thought he still got time when he watched her went through the first task, the second, the third. It got a lot more difficult when she was hurt during a task, under everyone's eyes. He couldn't heal her, couldn't look as if he cared about her an awful lot, couldn't carry her to the infirmary himself and wait at her bedside. He swore if he did wait at there, he wouldn't close his eyes in the night, he would wait and wait, even the world ends at that time, for her to wake up, to tell him she was okay.

The cruel truth was he couldn't. He stayed wide awake in the night when he couldn't get a trace of her condition. He tossed and turned restlessly, finding the ceiling of his dormitory extraordinarily interesting.

He was acting stupid, and he knew it. He knew that he shouldn't be that arrogant git. What was that thing about his proud, about his fame. It was what other people see in him, the famous Quidditch star, the gifted student in Durmstrang. He should be his old, humble self, and he couldn't.

Once he found that she had discovered he was looking at her, with her eyebrows raised, silently asking him if there was something he wanted to speak with her, he would snort, and look away. His heartbeat picking up its speed, leaping to his throat, expecting the girl to continue her gaze, afraid of that at the same time.

Those conflicting emotions almost drove him crazy.

He was a Quidditch star, he should be liked by every girl in this world, and how could he tell Fleur that himself? He had been used to getting all those love letters, getting kisses from brave girls, and never had he done this.

How could he tell her that he want to start a relationship with her?

Too blunt for his liking if he was to say that straightaway, too risky to get her confused if he wasn't.

There should have be someone to tell him how to do that! It was harder than any training he had had in the past.

So, in the end, he didn't say anything. He saw her leave that day, from afar, where he couldn't be spotted by anybody. Her strands of hair escaped from the hairpin and rested on her cheek, which she brushed away annoyingly. She stood behind Mrs. Maxime, along with her adorable little sister, who wear the same clothes of her. She waved towards the crowd when they were about to set up. Somehow, he thought, it was for him, at least for a second, when it came close to where he hide, barely a hundred of meters away.

He should be insane if it wasn't already at that time, however, how could he be insane when she hadn't tell him no and go off, when he still had that silly hope in his mind.

The once boy had turned into a time beaten man, someone who still couldn't say that L word to her.

No. He wasn't self-righteous, he was a coward, a self-abased coward. Terrified to be turned down, terrified to be disappointed, terrified to face his friends, family once he failed.

He buried his head in hands, and cried, with his coarse voice, shaking like a leaf. He dropped down onto the floor, onto the glacial bricks, onto the smoke butts and onto a puddle of dogs' manure.

He couldn't care too much about that.

He was no longer a star now, no paparazzi would hide on the trees to catch this moment. It was his place and he could take his time crying till he couldn't, if he would like to.

And he was wrong, he wasn't alone.

* * *

"Harry?" I couldn't believe what I saw. "You are so alike her."

"Yeah." He smiled bitterly. "I came to take you home." He tried to pull me up, but my weight couldn't allow him to do that.

I got up on myself.

"You?" I asked, couldn't comprehend what he had said, couldn't move my eyes from his face.

Actually, he wasn't like her. How could a man be alike to a woman? I knew that in my subconscious mind. And still, I found they were quite alike. Her brows, his brows, her eyes, his eyes, her nose, his nose, her face, his face. Miraculously, they seemed like one person, they were something mixed up. So alike, so inseparable.

I lifted my right arm, which was a bit reluctant to the motion due to too much time holding the pack of cigarette I smoked, to feel his skin under my fingertips. Smooth, warm skin, pearl color, brilliant thing to touch.

Daringly, I stroked his lips, making it more maddingly red than before.

"Fleur."My mouth felt that word, so beautiful on my tongue, so angelic, like actually I tasted a piece of the cloud, sweet, soft.

"Fleur, Fleur, Fleur, Fleur, Fleur…" I didn't count how many times I repeated that word. The word was the most beautiful I had ever the luck to say.

When I was like this now, when she couldn't hear what I said.

I rested my chin on the girl's shoulders, holding her in my arms. If I was quick enough to take in a breath, maybe I could pick up Fleur's scent before my tears came down, and I had to gulp for air.

No. No, such luck that I knew of.

I felt her hand moving, her wand moving with it. And sleep, the stranger to my life now, came to me.

That was what would happen when I was found by Harry. A sleeping curse, intended for foes, was used on me. And the next day, I would found myself on the bed in his apartment, with a note from him.

We kept playing this game for the past year. Sometimes he found me only a day after I left, sometimes weeks.

This time, a whole month.

He hadn't gotten tired of this ridiculous game that I had long loathed. He seemed so passionate of it. He seemed like, he was happy to find me, to "help" me, in his eyes, at least.

He was a great person, I knew, though not the one I loved.

Only that he wasn't Fleur.

I didn't know much about Fleur Delacour, but the Fleur Delacour I knew was the only one in the planet, in the whole world. You may meet a thousand girl one day, but there is only one Fleur Delacour, impossible to copy and paste.

That night, in my dream, I was able to see her for the millionth time. We were both in Hogwarts, the place we met for the first time.

I asked her:"Is it time now?"

She said:"Yes, it is." And she crushed her lips on mine.

Teenagers were we.

I closed my hands around her waist, wishing to memorize this precious moment, knowing there was no chance it could happen in reality.

* * *

Harry had put the man on his bed.

Getting off his boots for him, tugging him under the quilt, the emerald eyed man didn't dare to stay a little longer. He helped himself up and went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. That man like white tea, double sugar, too much in his opinion, but as he loved it, he would help him get what he want.

Likewise, he was making a potion for the last month to get Victor what he loved. A potion named Polyjuice.


	4. Round 2 Drabble

Category: Drabble

Word Count: 930

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Prompts: [Character]: A house elf other than Dobby or Kreacher

Warning: femslash, seduction, human/creature relationship, OOC

**意乱情迷极易流逝 难耐这夜春光浪费**

"Human nature is universally imbued with a desire for liberty, and a hatred for servitude." Said Caesar, in _Gallic Wars_. The same applied to house elves, a sort of creature that seemed to be happy with their housework, if they loved and respected their owners enough, that was.

However, not all house elves would like to do housework without being paid, and being looked down upon by most of the wizards and witches. The truth was, some house elves would like to have liberty and freedom.

One of them was called Cissy, the name that her mistress gave her. She worked for a great manor, the Malfoy manor, where she ironed clothes for her mistress.

Her mistress was once a Black, not a Malfoy, until she got married one day 20 years ago. Cissy was born after she came. Her mistress claimed her ownership over her when she was barely able to walk. Mom told her that was a brilliant chance anyone would admire, however, she herself was not quite sure about that.

See, her mistress was the most difficult woman in this world. She needed her clothes ironed before she woke up every day. That didn't mean any trouble. The problem was that she always changed her idea the next morning of what she would be wearing for the day. Last night, she wanted this dark purple cloak, next morning, she preferred another beige windbreak. She was like that, her mistress, temperamental and sentimental. She had freed a house elf when she was in one of her tantrum.

All Blacks were a bit crazy, you know?

On the other hand, as a house elf who would be beside herself if freed, she didn't care about her mistress' temper. How she hoped that she could be freed during that very tantrum.

Well, let's face reality, there were not enough house elves here in the manor. Neither did they prefer to hire some house elves. Purebloods' proud. Finding house elves meant your house elves weren't working very well, which in turn meant you weren't being your pureblood self, that you couldn't order your house elves to work. Hiring house elves itself was almost a blasphemy in purebloods' eyes.

So, it became more and more difficult to get rid of this family. She tried doing less work, burning her mistress' clothes while ironing, and breaking a vase. No, they made her work more, into the night.

She didn't know why they freed Dobby. She knew all things Dobby did, and she thought she had done enough. She didn't dare to do something too bad, too destructive, for she feared they would kill her instead free her.

There was only one thing she could do now.

* * *

I walked into my mistress' bedroom, and bowed to her. "Mistress, can I ask you for something?"

The aged woman was sitting on the sofa, holding a book. She barely registered my appearance, raising her brows.

"I can't work at here anymore. My health, it is getting worth. You see, the latest infectious disease among house elves. It will spread out in the manor if I am here any longer." Yeah, that was my excuse. I had stolen a potion to make my body covered up with skin rashes for this moment.

She walked towards me, holding my chin up by her cold fingertips.

"Cissy?" She whispered. So close to my ears that the tips of them turned red as her breath brushed against them.

"Mistress." I looked down at the carpet instead of her eyes.

"Do you want to get a little closer?" She licked her lips. Her fingertips doing their magic to my cheek.

"No." I choked. Wasn't sure whether I wanted it. I forgot my name and my body. I was in mid-air, floating.

"You know you want to, baby." She called me baby. I felt dazed and out of breath.

"You knew you want to go down on me."She giggled, quite confident, this woman.

"No." I insisted, didn't know how long I could keep the last bit of my conscious mind.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

"I don't care about your disease, Cissy." She assured me, or was that assurance? "I care about you. About your mind and your little body."

She went down to look straight into my eyes.

"Don't let me down, my namesake." She nibbled my lips. "You can go now, but do you really want to leave?"

She flipped away my loosened strands of hair.

"Do you really want to leave me behind, in this manor?" Her eyes were so sad, wide-open. Her puppy dog eyes.

"I don't know." I said honestly.

And I knew that I lost the only chance I got to go away. She won't give me another chance, neither did I want that chance anymore.

There was one thing she said was real, I couldn't leave this place. All girls had that thing about "first-times". First kiss, first love, first night to lose yourself in the moonlight. Those "first-times" secretly flicked across our mind from time to time.

She was the first mistress I'd ever had, and hopefully, the last one. At that moment, I realized that I never truly thought about the life after-manor. I imagined it a lot, but never truly dwelled on it. I loved the freedom, still, it was nothing on my love for my mistress.

Pushing away these nonsense, I gave up all my resistance to enjoy the night.


	5. Round 3 Drabble

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Prompt: [Color] Lime

Word Count:825

Category: Drabble

AN: A huge thank you to BetterYouThanMe, who helped me beta this!

**陪着你你都不会知 凝视你背影一辈子**

It was the color deep in his mind, kept on nagging him, making him living through it once and once again. Whenever he thought of her, he found himself picturing the grass, the trees on the embankment, and her scent. It was weird that he did not remember her face always that clearly. Those little things about her, about them was the representation of the time he couldn't get back to.

He could see plenty of things in his mind's eye. When he closed his eyes, and started drifting off, in unawareness, he slipped into flashes of memories. Their first metting, he told her she was a witch, and the dazed, unbelievingly dazzling smile. Their little "date" to get him out of the house, to avoid him being hit too badly by his father. Their first quarrel and the make up after that.

He knew he wasn't great company, and it was a wonder that she would like to be his friend, to help him, to warm him by the sunshine of her love.

He found himself wondering if it was the only amazing thing, the only luck he got and would get in his whole life.

Now, the time of his life counting down, he felt relieved, and surprise. No, he hadn't expected he could leave this world this soon, he thought he had to endure all the procedures like seeing another pair of emerald eyes married to someone else than him.

He didn't have to. This would be the end, and he knew it.

So he stayed at the little room peacefully, without screaming, just let the pain sip through his veins, and spread across his body.

The world would end for him quite soon.

Not soon enough to avoid anyone seeing him, it seemed. Well, well, what was Potter doing here? To lift him up and head to the hospital wing?

Go off.

He contemplated telling him to go off and didn't. He couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Look at me." He said. Driven by an unknown force, he could only see those emerald eyes. He could see them floating there, looking at him with pain, seemingly accusing him.

He couldn't help but stare at it, as now they were turned to him, staring at him specifically.

He drew in a deep breath, emmh, the same lime scent, the very scent that took him back to that time. When they were so young, they didn't care about losing each other, or they simply didn't think about that. Death was so far away from them. And, he should have admitted that he thought he would be the first to die among the two of them.

Lily always looked so healthy, so happy. Not like him, pale and lean-built.

He had thought they would have a long life, some difficulties for sure, but mostly a joyful one. They would face death when they were more ready for it. He hoped they would be good friends and something more at that time.

They didn't. Their friendship broke into pieces. Lily became a Potter, and he became a death eater. They were walking away from each other. Until that fateful day, he heard the prophet and went to Voldemort. Which caused Lily, his only friend's death in the end.

He swam in those emerald eyes, and inched closer to them. He could feel the hot breath against him, scolding hot, as he felt so cold because of blood loss.

And he looked at them, feeling his life slipping away.

Three.

Two.

One.

He kissed those emerald eyes, with all his might. The lime scent filled his chest.

"Sev."

Lime grass underneath her feet, moist with dew.

Her clothes filled with her lime scent, refreshing.

Lime grass.

Lime scent.

Lime.

Was that grass lime ? A little voice sounded in his mind. He didn't care.

He remembered that life-changing moment. When they were in Hogwarts, in the forbidden forest.

They were so overwhelmed with hormones in their bodies. They were so close, close enough for their lips to touch.

And their lips met. Soft, chaste, awkward.

Just like that. They didn't get any closer than that.

In the beginning of summer, among the trees, on the grass, everything was covered in a lime light, making him tipsy.

His mind swirled with thoughts of lime. Everything was infected by the "lime disease". Was it a disease?

Was it a disease that his mind was living in the past, while he was living in the present?

In the sea of lime, he found he couldn't think straight. He was falling, to the past of his life.

Lily.

The sight of her, the scent of her, all mixed up. She became a lime figure, living in a blank space, a lime space.

He never saw a lime colour more clearly, for heaven's sake.


	6. Round 3 Standard

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Prompt:[Character] Argus Filch

Word Count: 2099

Category: Standard

Warning: homosexual relationship

**谁投错票 说你共我应该不会分开**

He was lying on his stomach, stroking his hair. "Aren't you happy, Argus?" the man was blowing into his right ear. It felt warm, itchy.

"I am." He turned around. All he wanted was to sleep. He felt tired and worn out after their evening activities. He couldn't care less what the man was thinking.

"Nah, don't go to sleep right now. Here, talk to me." He pushed him towards himself, one leg moved between his legs, making him unable to move away.

He sighed at the loss of sleep, rubbed his eyes, and glared at him. "What is it that you want?" He felt his anger boiling up. He was that type that would be frustrated if he couldn't get enough sleep.

"Just chat. Please, I'm bored to bones." He grabbed his fingers, and swung them, acting like a spoilt child.

"How old are you, silly?" Argus looked up and down. "Mmh, I would say 3 or 4, no more than 5." Smirking, he kissed the man beside him.

"Argus, you are such a git." The man shoved him on the shoulder. "Seriously, you are not someone to love a BABY."

"Oh? What if I say, baby, I love you." His dark eyes on his, silently questioning him.

And they laughed, tossing and turning on the mattress, like two youngsters.

"Gush. That was brilliant." The man claimed, panting. Hands over head, showing that he had given up. Argus may or may not scratched under his arm.

At last, they calmed down, with their bodies cuddled together. "Good night." "Night."

It was all a perfect holiday for the caretaker of Hogwarts, only if he didn't wake up next morning, from a nightmare.

"Darling, what is it?" The man made soothing circles on his back.

"Nothing." He didn't dare to look into his eyes.

"Oh, umh, here's some tissue." That was what he loved about him. He didn't dig into other people's affairs.

"Stupid nightmares." He sneezed, a bit cold when he felt the cold sweat on his back.

"My coat, don't frown upon it." He was trying to make him laugh.

"Thanks." He didn't want to talk, didn't trust his voice.

"Oh, kay?" Pausing on his way to get some coffee for both of them. "You sure you'll be alright?" He sent him the suspicious look.

He nodded, his head hanging low on his shoulders.

'I'll be right back.'

"Go." He pushed him out of the door, and came back to rest on the bed.

He needed to rest and think clearly what he was going to say to the man. He had never cherished the relationship he shared with other partners as much as with him. Somehow, he wanted to believe he was the special one.

He didn't notice that time had passed, though it must had been, because his cup of tea had already been drained.

"More?" The man was reading a book in the corner of the room.

"Too much for a day already." He shook his head, standing up, stretching his arms and legs.

"Maybe." The man smiled. "But that will help you stay awake. Sleepy Argus." He whistled, raising his left brow.

"Go off." He pointed to the door.

"Please, let me stay here." The man sobbed mockingly.

"Fine, wake me up when dinner's ready." He moved under the covers.

"You haven't had your lunch yet." The man was clearly worried, he must have sensed something off with him.

"I'm not hungry, anyway." He tried to make it light. Thanks to God, the other man didn't pried in that.

So he allowed himself to be out for a few hours. And he was scared out of his skin by his nightmare, once again.

"Don't, please. Don't leave me." He sat up suddenly, didn't know where he was. He tried to grab something, to make himself feel a sense of security.

"Nightmares again?" The man asked, patting him on the back.

"En." He buried his face in his long strands of hair, breathing in his scent.

"I get you. Baby, don't be afraid. I'm here, I will accompany you to the end of the world." He kissed him on the temple.

He nodded, his chin on his shoulder blade, hitting the bone every time he moved it.

"You know I'll be with you, right?" He whispered.

"I know."

"You know we'll be together, officially together, right?" That was the nearest proposal to him.

"I know."

"You know we'll have a wedding in a cathedral, and a honeymoon around the world? You'll be the ecstatic bride?"

"You'll be the bride." He replied defiantly.

"Will I? I think I fit the groom figure better." He glanced at him, clearing his throat.

"Whatever." A sense of euphoria swelled in his heart. What would they be like when they were married?

They would be living near the sea or in the mountains. They would own a villa or a cabin. They would had the bedroom with French doors, a vintage point.

They would had a king size bed in the middle of the bedroom, with puffy pillows on one end.

They would had a sofa facing the fireplace for them to chat in the night.

They would live by their own, away from the cities, away from anywhere people knew of them. They would live like themselves.

"How would you like to go for a walk with me, my husband?" The man bowed, holding out his hand.

"Mmh, I need to think of that." He massaged his chin, like he was actually thinking about it.

"Come." And Argus was out of the door before he noticed it.

Such a night.

When they were arguing, Argus had the image of that night in his mind. The smooth moonlight, no stars in sky. Dark all around, the only way he knew he was near him was by the hand holding his. It was warm, or was it cold?

He couldn't remember that. A piece of his memory was stolen away, like a hole. It happened when people got old.

Was he wearing the shirt they bought together, or the watch he bought for him? He felt his headache was starting, so he stopped thinking.

What was the point to look into these details when none of them could win him back.

He should have known it was a mistake to tell him about magic. Not all muggles were keen on magic, as same as not all wizards accepted muggles. The prejudice were never a one-side thing.

However, he couldn't blame himself for trying, for doing his best for their oh-so-bright future. He had thought about their future without him knowing about magic. That meant no work at Hogwarts, the place he so adored. That also meant they would live in the muggle world, fine by him. That meant he would have to abandon everything magical in his home, well, his parents and grandparents were sure to be on the list. Even though they despised him for being a squib, they treated him almost the same as before they knew he couldn't use any magic.

On the other hand, he hoped he would have the honor to introduce the magical world for him. Applying for it through the ministry as his lover, the man would be able to see another wonderful world, it would be the life-experience for him. The first time he went to the Diagon Alley, he awed at the variety of things it had and swore he would never give up the chance to see it. That and all other wonders in the magical world were probably why he chose to live in it as a squib. He knew that squibs was almost the lowest class in this world, where people respect magic, but he was fond of it and would like to endure all the unfair treatment.

On holidays, he would went into the muggle world and hang out with different men. It was a great place to make him live like himself, where his parents, friends, or anyone who knew him could not possibly see him. He could be a "disgusting person" in their eyes without their eyes on him.

Like in a paradise, he was immersed in this kind of relationships. No trouble after the holiday. No people dislike squibs and magic (mostly because he wouldn't tell them the truth). He became the most ordinary man there, none would question his magic state.

So, that day, he told him everything. All of his life, and all of the magical world he knew.

He was aghast, dumb at first, then, his brows crossed. "You live in there?" His voice wasn't that kind of expecting, exciting voice, on the contrast, his voice was shivering.

"Yeah." Argus's hands was shaking. He knew that things were gonna go wrong. "It's a great place, loads of interesting things."

His statement was pale in comparation to what he had thought before. He should work more on that. He should do a draft and remember it, practice it time and time again, to make it perfect.

He knew he was losing the battle against him liking the magical world. Sometimes, one just had these kind of bad feelings.

"I don't like the heard of it." His partner was clearly hating it. "It's not a good idea to live in that world, believe me. It's a disaster." He was trying to make him see sense.

"We can live here, in the muggle world." Looking at him earnestly, he begged all the gods to let him have a chance to be together with him.

"No, of course not. We are poles apart! How could I live with someone like you?" He was already on his way to sort out his things.

"But I don't even have magic. I told you I am a squib." He heard that word coming out his mouth. Squib. For years, he tried everything to avoid saying that word, and now he said it willingly.

If the other man would like, then squib would be the best word ever invented by human beings.

"No, I don't think I can bear it." His boy was looking at him with his big blueish eyes, his whole heart wrenching.

"Oh." He made out a single syllable. And he felt his tears were already falling.

God, he resented those bloody tears.

"You want to go?" He could feel the dismay in his voice.

"I should have a few days ago, they want me there soon." He pulled out his suitcase and started mounting things on it.

"Oh."

"Good luck."

And they were over before he could give the relationship a proper start. He owed them a proper courtship, like a bunch of flowers, a movie, a dinner in a luxurious place. Nothing, and he left him, leaving him no chance to do it for them.

He didn't even want to cry anymore. The tears had long failed him. All he felt was a sense of numbness. Nothing could pique his interest. Nothing could hurt him.

He himself was like nothing, like he had lost everything.

Didn't know how he made it back to Hogwarts. Didn't know how he made it to now. Such a wonder that he was still alive, living like a person, patrolling the castle, punishing students.

He wasn't like that before, he pulled pranks himself. Somehow, in his now twisted mind, he found pranks, or other people's felicity quite confusing and unbearable.

What was there to be happy for? How could they?

He felt he could absorb all the pessimistic emotions existed in this world, and could find anything but happiness. It was like he suddenly lost that ability.

At the end of it, he believed it was what fate had in store for him. He had to be like this. Fate wanted him here, and he did.

What was the point in arguing with fate? He should accept it, no matter how much he didn't want to.

He couldn't decide whether to pity his boy or to congratulate him for enduring the same fate as him. Did he want to be with him, or did he not? Sometimes he started to doubt that.

Sometimes he started to doubt that whether he had loved him? And the length of it, one minute, one hour, or for all their holiday?

When love had experienced time, everything became a blur and suspicious. Memory was mingled with nightmares and dreams, making them disputable.

He told himself they had been in love.


	7. Round 4 Standard

Prompt: [Crossover] X-Men Universe

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Category: Standard

Word Count: 1650

Warning: Quicksilver was both a girl and a boy in his opinion, but he thought he was a boy or girl at times. To make it clear, I used "he" for him. So, this is not a normally transsexual story. It's more like someone who didn't no whether he was a girl or a boy, but it thought it was a girl most of the time.

This Quicksilver was more like the movie version in my opinion. I made him have a loving family in AU. And, in case you couldn't get to know, the girl is Minerva McGonagal. In the movies, the last war, Minerva seemed a giggling girl to me. (As she wanted to try the defense system out, or something)

Thanks to BetterYouThanMe who helped me beta this story! I knew I made an awful lot of mistakes. Oh well.

**茶没有喝光早变酸 从来未热恋已失恋**

He always knew that he was strange. Ever since he discovered his super-ability, he could never be normal again. How he couldn't move at a slow speed and do anything as ordinary people do? He enjoyed the little gift and had become dependent on it. In the morning, he moved to the front door in a split of second, and slowed down for other people's sake after he walked out of his house.

His parents became a little worried about his behavior, afraid he would be taken to be experimented on by doctors and the police. Though they went to great lengths to prevent his supernatural ability to be known, he wasn't a bit worried about it.

He knew he could be out of people's eyes before they realized something was wrong. If he had to move that way in front of them, he could as well move away before they notice anything.

For now, the 16-year-old boy was worried about something else. He never told his parents, who had accepted his ability quite well, that he thought he was a girl all along.

Yeah.

Thanks to his ability, he never went to toilet with his male friends. He used female facilities and came out without other people's notice.

He had a dress, a skirt, a bra in his closet, and some make-up. Sometimes, when he felt a bit down, he would dress like a girl and walk around the school, saying hello to girls and boys staring at him.

How could he help that his body was perfect for both sexes?

So, technically, there was no problem for him to continue his life. He shouldn't sit on his bed, whining. Many people like him couldn't have the life he had.

Still, he wasn't happy.

It was the prom. He didn't want to invite a girl as a boy and he didn't want to invite a boy as a boy. And, he couldn't be a girl on the prom.

Oh, God save him! If once he (or she, in that case) was known by his parents, he'd be dead.

Was it a curse? Was it a side-effect of his ability? Was it because he was too handsome and the world had to get back on him?

Frustrated, he picked up the longuette he bought last week. Staring at the piece, he found himself confused.

He had never considered whether he liked males or females better. He thought, originally, like most boys, he loved girls. Their curves, their softness, things he could never have himself. Then, at that moment, he hesitated.

If he himself was more like a girl, then, how could he love girls? He should love boys by normal means, right? Even though he loved girls, he should go to the prom as a boy, right?

Things were getting complicated.

He was quick to everything, to move, to think, and never had he experienced this. He should have known that middle school could kill a handsome person like him.

"Dinner's ready!" His mom shouted from the kitchen. He moved into the kitchen before she finished, sitting right across from her.

"Ooh! Looks great today! Any luck in asking a girl to prom?" His brother nudged him.

He shot him a warning glance and picked up his fork.

"Not yet." His shoulders slumped.

"Cheer up, baby! You'll find someone." His mom smiled encouragingly.

"Yeah. Of course" Only if he knew who he would like to take to prom.

"Get something for the prom this weekend?" A thrilled voice asked beside him. His sister was indulged in shopping.

It was the only thing he ever said no to her. Shopping kills him. So it was necessary for him to find a proper excuse.

"Got to go with friends." He said, in a mutated voice.

"What if, what if I go to the prom with you. You can take me!" His sister was bouncing on the balls of her feet. He didn't notice she stood up.

"Okay." That would solve his problem, at least for now.

His father caught his mother's eyes, clearing his throat:" You sure you want to take your sister?"

Emmh, he should know that boys his age, well, even younger maybe, was yearning to experiencing their puppy love or to go out with someone. Not him, obviously, he preferred finding out what his problem was first.

"The girl I asked had already been asked out, so it's all the same to me who I take to the prom. And Amy wants to go, we'd better agree. You know what she will…"

"Peter!" His sister punched him in the stomach. He didn't avoid it, though he could. He took the blow, and grimaced, "If you kill me right now, who will take you to the prom?"

She looked sheepish, and then she built up her confidence: "I'll drag your body through the streets, and go to the prom with it!" She looked at him cheerfully, her chin up.

They all laughed.

The prom came. He dressed like a decent gentleman, wearing a tuxedo. Amy had a layered skirt on, making the girls in the proms pale in comparison.

He bowed, lower than he originally would, to the girl.

"Would you like to have a dance with me, young lady?"

Amy took his hands, and they stepped into the dancing floor. As he was a lot taller than his sister, he had to bend his back to be in line with her moves.

Amy didn't get tired as soon as he thought she would. She danced and danced until he felt his feet hurt. Not because he was tired, but because they were stamped on.

Sometimes, he questioned in his mind, whether his sister was deliberate in her actions.

He slouched on the couch, and took off his shoes.

That was like a girl, he thought bemusedly. Movies always had these scenes. A girl got tired and took off her shoes, and be herself for a while, which was "coincidentally" seen by "the prince".

He rubbed his bruised feet and tried to keep an eye on his sister. One of his friends had promised to dance with her till she was tired of it.

That guy seemed to be a bit in love with her. He had to be careful.

"You alone?"

He had lifted his head to find a girl with exposed wearing, thought it would be someone who wanted to have a fling with him, but no. She was wearing a longuette looking a bit familiar like the one in his room. He swallowed.

"What do you want?" He asked rudely, but he couldn't have the mind to say nicer words.

"Nothing. I want to have a seat here." She had a Scottish accent.

He nodded. Looking around, the only empty place was next to him.

"Sure."

And they sat like that, in embarrassing silence.

"So, your sister?" She gestured towards the little girl.

"Umh, she wanted to come." He wasn't one to talk much with a stranger.

"She's beautiful." She said in a dreamy voice.

Glancing at her, he found the girl was serious about her statement.

"Of course! She's my sister!"

She chuckled. "Of course. I never doubted that."

"Oh?" He raised his brows, and blew out his hair.

"Your eyes are following her like a protective big brother. I've always wished I could have a big brother." The girl squealed.

His face turned bright red at that statement.

"Maybe." What did it mean? To say 'maybe' after that? He was hopeless.

She nodded, and had a look at her watch.

"Have a dance before you leave?" He held out his hand.

"Okay." She stood up and they started.

Not a second later, his sister screamed! "I knew it! My brother loves fuddy-duddy! Look what she's wearing and her hair!" She was pointing at the girl standing beside his brother.

The girl in his arms looked scared. He embraced her. "You are the prettiest girl I've ever met."

To his disappointment, she ran away.

Running was the one thing he never lost at. But, he lost that time. He saw that girl waving a stick and she just disappeared.

He knew he had no chance of finding her if she knew to move like that.

A week later, a letter came, with only two sentences.

"Thanks for the dance. I love that song. M.M."

It was dropped by an owl.

How could he ask someone for the address of the girl if she send things in this way? How could he figure out the whole country's M.M.s to find her?

He felt defeated, knowing she didn't want him to know her anymore.

Should he try to find her? Or just leave her be and forget everything?

Would it bother her if he find her out?

Often did he picture a wedding in a Cathedral. She looked like someone who would like a wedding in a cathedral.

They would both dress like women. White wedding gown, heavy make-up. Sweet smiles on their faces.

They would take pictures like two equals. No protective gestures, because they were both protective of each other. No particular difference in position between the two of them. They became so alike and yet so different.

She would be the person he never had the chance to be. Or would it be solved by magic?

When he was young, he had thought he was the one person that could win something against time. If he moved fast enough, as he did, he would be able to win.

And time had defeated him at last.

There was a time no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't get back to. He couldn't fight against it.

Time couldn't be tricked. That was the reason why he had to daydream, and be immersed in the only memory he shared with the mysterious M.M.


	8. Round 4 Drabble

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Category: Drabble

Word count: 1574

Prompt: [Song] Go the Distance from Hercules

Thankyou BetterYouThanMe! I want all readers of this chapter know that you are such a brilliant beta who helped me corrected loads of mistakes.

It's you that make this chapter more reader-friendly! HAHA!

**莫非今生原定陪我来 却去了错误时代**

1 His Dream

Tom had this dream of a girl for a while. A bushy-haired witch with bright smiles. She was in Hogwarts' robes, could be a student here. She was short and looked innocent, could be someone in their first year.

He had read Freud's works, and he knew that dreams were a subconscious thing, so he had been sure that he had met this girl somewhere before, only that he didn't know.

So he asked his crew to search through Hogwarts and told them if they met the girl, took her to him. However, they had seen nothing of the girl. They took someone with bushy hair to him, but no one looked like her.

Did that mean that the girl's image in his head was not accurate to what he had seen? That his mind had told him lies? That maybe it was a combination of two girls or three on one feature that he was seeing?

He knew that once he started recruiting his team, he was at the point of no return. He couldn't risk being seen by anyone when he was doing his business, even someone as little as a first-year witch. He had to be extremely careful from now on if he wanted to achieve anything.

Never hurt to be careful.

2 The First Crime

He killed someone.

It was natural to his followers' eyes. They thought he didn't have a soul in his body, he knew that. They thought he didn't have any human emotions, like a machine, a robot, who could do anything no matter what he may feel at that moment.

He couldn't help but feel dreadful. He felt awfully terrible. He felt he could kill himself right now. The shock, the sickness in his stomach, the sweat on his forehead. He felt a bit relieved that they didn't notice anything.

He couldn't for his life allow anyone to pry in his personal moment.

So, he stood before the statue and cried. Cried like a baby.

Cried himself to sleep.

And, adding to all his misery, he had to have dreamed of her this night. He cursed all the gods up there for his bad luck.

He was contradicted. Sometimes he loved seeing the girl, it became an opportunity to leave the present life and be somewhere else, but most times he disliked it. Every dream showed his weakness in power, for he was right here, in the one place he knew she was in, and he couldn't even find her.

Hardly had he admitted defeat, but this time, he chose to give up.

Especially that girl was a Gryffindor. Especially that girl had all the professors he had never met, or, in Dumbledore's case, much older than now.

Things were getting out of his control. There was a small voice in his mind said she could be living in another time, in the future, to be exactly.

He couldn't fanthom the idea. It meant that he would be much older than the witch, way older. Maybe he would look like a father figure to her. On one hand, if he got rich, and powerful, she would look up to him. On the other hand, if he had failed, she may not know him at all or to look at him as a plain stranger.

And imagine seeing someone growing up when were also growing up, and you grow and grow, to finally meet her younger self.

That felt weird and saddening. He liked none of it.

He would meet her like someone with high power, looking young and handsome. So he had to take some precautions against getting old. He had to stay young for the witch.

To be honest, it was his own dream as well. The future was something mysterious and fascinating to him. He wanted to see the future himself. He hoped he could live long, to exist until one day he couldn't. And he even hoped that day wouldn't come.

To realize his dream, he would go the distance. He had been searching in the library for how to make a Horcrux. When he couldn't find enough things to create one, he even went out of his way to ask a professor.

None could stop him.

He could do this, and he was feeling it.

3 Irresistible

When his spell had no effect, he knew something had to go wrong. For years, he seemed so unstoppable. He seemed he would be a great man in her era, which he was so confident about.

His eyes widened at the feeling of pain. Explicit pain on his back. And the next second, he became nothing in the world. Not even a ghost, a painting, he simply deceased.

He had used Avada Kedavra since he was 16, and now somebody told him he couldn't possibly kill a baby? How could it go wrong? He was only a baby, for god's sake.

How could he?

Furious was he when he floated out of the house, seeing his followers had already apparated away. Years of work had gone to nothing. He wanted to punch someone, and he couldn't. Because he was nothing himself now, and he couldn't touch anyone without coming through them. Something similar to a ghost.

Then he suddenly stopped panic all over. He remembered that he had seven Horcruxes in store, in case these things happened.

None could stop him. He could go the distance.

He felt triumphant, even though he became nothing right now.

4 To Rebuilt His World

14 years living like an animal, like a part of someone else, like a memory in the past and like nothing important. He found himself much older than his younger self.

He had only one goal at this very moment, to be alive, to be a person soon!

He watched wormtail put the bones, the blood and his arm in the cauldron. The huge cauldron was steaming, bubbling, a sense of expectedness was rising up in his heart.

He had been waiting for this moment over 10 years, and eventually, it would come. He would let the world know who its master was.

He would own this world and let that witch know him, admire him, and pay respects to him.

5 She

Why wasn't she happy?

He thought she would be happy when she saw him. They had both been waiting for this moment, for their meeting quite a while, right? Wasn't she excited?

Oh, right, she was still small. And maybe, he had to admit that chances were she hadn't been having these dreams all along.

Could it be a one-sided thing? Like he was a psycho to enter her mind all these years, and became a little in love with this action?

Horrifying!

He pushed that thought away, to focus on the current fight.

Against his will power, he wondered why he never sees himself in her mind? Was there a restriction? That he couldn't see himself in her eyes? Then what was he like in her eyes?

Was she really on Potter's side? Was she secretly admiring him and would help him in the end?

How much did she know of him? Did she know his younger self? Did she only look at his older self and was disgusted at his inhuman appearance.

So nervous was he that he had to stop his wand movement and rattle out his tie. Only did he realized he wasn't wearing a tie, wearing a tuxedo like a proper gentleman when he touched his neck.

Agitated, he lowered his hand, lowered his gaze. He couldn't imagine what the witch would think of him.

He had ruined their first meeting. They should meet when they were both in Hogwarts, as students. In front the castle, on the grass. She would be burying herself in a book, waiting for him. He would stride, and stand right in front of him.

He would call out her name: Her-mi-one, using that luring tone of his, which he knew she would take a like to.

She would blush and invited him to sit down.

Of course, he would agree and sat down to make their shoulders touch. He would smirk at her, and teased her for being easy to blush. She would get embarrassed and told him to leave. Though inside, she would be so attracted by him.

He knew he would have a chance when he was still his younger self.

And he wouldn't ever give up. He would go the distance to win a position in her heart.

The determined glint in his eyes, he was ready to face the harms.

6 Cheers

No one had expected it would be so easy to kill Voldemort.

No one had expected him to seemingly giving up all of a sudden. He dropped his wand, touched his wand, and just stood there, his head hanging on his shoulders.

Like he was waiting for someone to kill him. So they cursed him and he became nothing.

Actually nothing this time, they hoped.

Hermione herself felt confused as well, like most people. Voldemort's eyes were on hers when he suddenly became strange.

Was he afraid of her? No, he couldn't be. He, afraid of a 17-year-old girl? That would be a joke.

So, in the cheers of the winning side, Hermione decided to not dwell on it any longer.

It was high time to enjoy herself, and hug everybody!


	9. Round 5 Standard

Round 5 Standard

Prompts: [Object]: A love potion

[Emotion] Heartbroken

Word Count: 2116

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Again, thanks for BetterYouThanMe who helped me beta this story, and gave me some very precious ideas. She let me know where I may confuse the readers, so I've changed the ending. Originally, I intended to let you find that Hermione and Pansy had something, but I may not make it very clear, so here we are.

I've also changed a few things different from what she told me, so all mistakes are mine.

**衬蜜糖可以跟咖啡对比 让味觉撮起**

Hermione's POV:

When you need a love potion to love somebody, believe me, it's far from real love and unnecessary. Real love is natural, pretty, human-like, a gift from God or whatever you believe in. A love potion triggers some hormones in your body and makes you feel like you are in love with someone. All of it was unreal, every bit opposed by people who believe true love can win over everything.

So, it's kind of silly for Ginny to give me the love potion when we first settled into a romantic relationship.

"If you ever think of leaving me, promise me to take this. I know it's selfish to make you do it when you couldn't truly love me anymore at that point, but I can't for the world imagine what I would be like once you leave me. I didn't mean to be a clingy girlfriend, it's just that, the insecurity overwhelmed me."

I remembered the ginger girl saying so and then leaned in, whispering sweet nothings into my poor ears. Oh, God save them, they had already suffered much from that girl.

* * *

The news of Pansy's funeral still sounded weird to my ears. I had thought I would get used to deaths after the war, for I had experienced so many people's deaths during it.

But, let me tell you something, one can never get used to deaths. And, if it was even possible, the more one had experience with deaths, the less one had the heart to face other people's deaths. It became harder and harder.

Especially when you don't even know what that person means to you, someone exactly like Pansy.

If it is someone you had simply loved or hated, then, fine, you know what it will lead you to. You'll mourn for it or cheer for it. For someone like Pansy, you will never know how to react.

Long before Pansy's death, maybe since we were still in school together, I asked myself this question: "What does Pansy mean to me?"

She was someone easy to hate than love. That was the one answer I had in mind. If you only focused on what she did to me in our schooldays, you would say I had a big heart. However, you should also have a look at what she did for Slytherin, her house, and her housemates. You may be wondered that she was looked as a goddess there.

Yeah, you certainly would take a double-take at that. You should see how she was admired by her housemates. Sometimes she seemed like a servant of Draco Malfoy, I couldn't deny that myself, but what I was saying was she was absolutely on the pyramid of power among Slytherin girls.

I know that power isn't an excuse to love someone. Love is just love, no sensible thought, no escape and no end. I used the example of Pansy being admired as a proof that she could do some good, to someone certainly.

And, during the war, I had become that certain someone. She had saved me from a team of Death Eaters, with herself injured in the process.

When we were heading off, she grumbled :"Get your dirty, mudblood hands off me." Said hands were supporting her stand since her ankle was bleeding.

"No." I knew she would fall the second I let go.

"I'm going to apparate, mudblood." I didn't want to take offense, but if she mentioned that word once again, I would let her know what makes Hermione Granger.

"Then take me with you." Suggested I, as casually as I could. Though my sweating hands told otherwise.

Pansy Parkinson! Both the daughter of a Death Eater and my life-saver.

"You want to go with ME?" Her eyes wide-open, obvious doubt in them.

"Depends on where you are going." Even though I have no place to go to in mind, I couldn't let her take me anywhere.

"Then you won't want to attend a meeting with the Dark Lord, so just let go of my arm."

I softened my grip and she popped away, disappeared from my sight.

That was the reason why I thought there was something good in her and she was someone worth loving.

* * *

Pansy was sent into Azkaban after the war. A death sentence was announced in the trial despite all my efforts.

What was it like to be someone famous, to be a heroine? Well, let me tell you, for something people had long believed in, I had nothing on it.

The jury just wouldn't listen to anything I said, as well as the Wizengamort.

Was it a punishment for my failure to watch someone who saved my life to die, before my eyes?

Honestly, I should have known that her funeral would happen on someday, I just never expected me, myself had been invited. Had they known what I did for Pansy and how I failed? Had it been something in Pansy's last with to invite as many people as possible to the ceremony, and they thought I might have the time and be willing to go?

Even, would it be like I was someone special to Pansy?

That train of thought troubled me.

* * *

Of course, Ginny wouldn't approve any of it, even after I tell her Pansy had saved my life.

"Too much in the war, too much dark magic you had been surrounded to, they had tainted your mind." She looked at me with those pitiful eyes. " I think Ron is experiencing something similar."

By comparing me with Ron, she had come to the conclusion that we should go to St. Mungo and do something about it. "Maybe even spend some time in a ward." Those were her words.

Hearing all of that, there was nothing left for me to say. Nothing, even her love to me could help her see the real me. Then, what's the point in arguing anymore?

I thought about leaving, about ending our marriage arrangement.

It had been enough for me.

Everything had a time span. Love as well.

No more romantic stories. No more snuggling. No more Ginny in my life.

It was like I brought my everything out of myself. She was my everything, still is. But I didn't have my everything now. I was just a soul, floating in the mid-air, waiting for the bell to ring and tell me time's up, I should go to another world.

Maybe I can begin a new life there. Maybe not.

One can never be sure of that. Especially when one is emotional.

What if I don't end our arrangement? That I try my everything to make this relationship work or just simply wait for it to work out?

Big chance we would end up ugly, which was what I was afraid of.

I didn't want that, every bit.

Our relationship was so beautiful so far, it worth a good-enough ending—with no argument, no tears.

Only me and Ginny, sitting there, peacefully discussing things, and saying goodbye to each other knowing we would always meet as platonic friends.

Then I was reminded of promise by the bottle sitting on my bookshelf.

I should have drunk it when I even thought of leaving Ginny.

And I downed it in one-shot.

For a moment, I was swayed by the love I had had for her. And by the extent of love I had for her right at that moment.

Would it help us overcome all difficulties and differences?

* * *

The funeral went as plain and boring like anyone would picture. All witches and wizards in black robes, wearing a sour expression, hard to tell the difference from one to another.

I did what everyone else did. Hearing the word of her life, she a few tears and shared memories with someone who know her as well.

Nothing particular about it, I assure you. Only one Draco Malfoy came to me to talk.

"So you know the real her then?"

Nodding, I didn't feel like saying anything to him, maybe anyone at the funeral even.

"Wanna keep a phot of her to look at sometimes?"

Hesitating, I got my hand on a set of her photos.

"Maybe."

I picked one of them. Pansy smiling, but wasn't looking at the camera when the photo was taken. She was smiling for something else outside the photo.

Was it a sign that she couldn't be caught by anything? Not the camera, not people who had loved her so dearly.

By the way, she looked cute in her pink suit. Not anyone suit pink like this girl.

"Thanks for the photo." I told the blond, and went to talk with someone else.

* * *

By the time I got to home, I had nearly forgotten all about the photo lying in my pocket and throw my robe into the laundry.

"You need to do our laundry this week, Ginny."

No response.

"Ginny?"

"Care to explain what this is, Granger?" Her voice was icy with menace.

The photo was gripped with such force that her knuckles turned whit.

"Urm." My mind had gone blank.

"I knew it. I knew you had something with her."

I didn't know she would speak out something like that in front of my face.

"We're over." She stated that.

"Pardon me?" I choked out.

"Go to St. Mungo and ask for a doctor, they'll help you with your problems."

She strode off, tore the photo into two, and shoved them on my face.

"Still love her? You can do well with two copy of her now, only you couldn't get the complete of her. Forever!"

Then she added. "Even if you find some other photos, it's never the real her. You should bear in mind from now on that she was dead. DEAD!"

She seemed unfamiliar to me all of a sudden. I watched her saying all these, numbed, jaw hanging.

Well, let's say it's another proof we don't really need that love potion staff, you see? She wouldn't want me have anything to do with her anymore.

I clutched the bottle in my hand, which was concealed in my sleeve during our row, and sniffed.

It still smelt like Ginny. The last drop of it.

* * *

When I live by myself for a long, long time, I started to doubt what Ginny said was right. I was denying it all the time when I was with her but when we had broken up, I couldn't deny it to myself anymore.

When you got paranoid, you could do anything. If you don't like real life, you may create your own little world, like writing a novel.

No, there was no Draco Malfoy in the funeral. He was killed before Pansy, and now a body somewhere in Malfoy Manor, I believe.

The photo he was supposed to give never move, it was taken the muggle way. Why would a pureblood take a photo in the muggle way, and why would another pureblood keep one?

The truth was just lurching there to let me know that I could never deny it.

And, I never told this secret to anyone that I'd always had something for Pansy. For all my school years, I kept one diary to memorize all the moments we were together. How she bullied me which also meant she paid me full attention. When she was bullying me, cursing me, calling me a mudblood, I could feel my body shivering with excitement.

Morbid was I.

She was never nice to me except that time when she saved my life. Even that time, she called me mudblood.

She was aggressive, mean, sardonic, and I loved her for that.

I admired her and was enchanted with her behavior. She was the person I wanted to become. Do bad thing to people you don't like, stay with people you do. Know what to do and what not to do. Save your childhood enemy even though you don't like her, because you know she don't deserve to die like this.

I couldn't help but suspect Ginny had read that special diary, whatever, I still got hundreds of Pansy's pictures with me.

All from different angles. Sometimes only something like a corner of her robe, a shoulder. Sometimes even only her shadow. They hold evidence that Pansy got a little paparazzi with her.

They hold evidence that I had been after her like crazy.

You could never deny who you loved. They were in your blood, your every breath, never would cease. The love would become a part of you.

I had thought that leaving Ginny would take everything out of me, but not this.

True love would never be taken away by anybody.


	10. Round 5 Drabble

Round 5 Drabble

Prompts:[Date] The day after graduation

[Setting] Honeydukes

Word Count: 735

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potion

Thanks for BetterYouThanMe who helped me beta this story and made it readable.:)

**这塑胶的爱情 跳蚤的旅程**

What person would still be in Hogsmeade, after graduating from Hogwarts?

Severus Snape. He didn't know where to go and didn't known what he should do about it.

The Dark Lord hadn't sent him anything yet, so he was free for the moment. He didn't have a home to be back to, due to his parents deaths. Sure, the house in the Spinner End had survived, but it could never be called a home. Even though he hadn't been close to his parents, he still felt the unbearable loss.

He was a coward.

Striding down the street, with his black robe tumbling behind him, he wondered why people would go into this store and enjoy themselves. None of the stores had piqued his interest.

The Three Broomsticks? Too noisy, and too crowded.

Zonko's Jokeshop? Not his thing.

Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop? He had enough for the year.

Gladrags Wizardwear? Oh, come on!

A rush of students pushed past him, laughing and ignoring him like he didn't even exist.

A hand was reached out towards him.

"B*** off." He didn't even take a look at whoever it was.

He was pushed into the open door of Honeydukes. Acid Pops, Exploding Bonbons, Peppermint Toads…Definitely Honeydukes' style. He cursed the luck that caused him to be in there. Never in his life had he loved eating anything sweet, like along things in Honeydukes.

Admittedly, the décor of this store had sent him a feeling of warmness. Because its main customers were children and students, it was ornamented with bright-colored papers and dolls, like a child's dream.

Despite his recent adulthood, he wished he could have a better childhood. Could have been able to dream, to imagine, to have been praised more. It was no use to think of these things, he should let past be past.

"Severus, what a surprise?" Slughorn seemed quite shocked to see him there. "Are you buying something for someone? A girlfriend?"

"No." He was awkward, and he could feel the temperature in the store turning up a few degrees.

"Oh, I never know you like sweets. What kind do you like? Something simple like chocolate frogs?" Slughorn became excited and curious about his sweet tooth something he didn't have.

"No, I merely came in here by accident, it's a mistake. " How could he tell him that he was being pushed into here, too embarrassing.

He wanted to leave as soon as possible but for some reason, he couldn't move his legs.

"It's mistletoe." A girl whispered excitedly beside him. Looking up, the criminal was just above his head.

"What a day!" He couldn't stop muttering. It was already summer, months after the last Christmas and months before the next. How could there be any mistletoe?

"Shop assistant!" He yelled. Fortunately, the shop assistant was nearby.

"Sir, you are lucky to be chosen by our month mistletoe! To celebrate our foundation 999 years ago, we have designed this little activity to thank all our customers. Every month we put a mistletoe here and it will choose the one most craving for love or most need to be loved. We sincerely hope you can find true love here!" The assistant bowed and was about to leave.

"Wait, there should be, urgh, someone else right?" His two cheeks flushed red.

"I'm sure the other would come soon, sir." The assistant bowed once again and left.

He shouldn't have gone into Hogsmeade today! He should know that it was trouble! Where had his brain gone when he somehow made the decision to go?

Now he had to wait for some stranger! For a store almost a thousand years old, he didn't want to use any magic in case he triggered some protection ward. The only way to get out was to wait.

"Severus Snape." Someone said his name as though that means something.

"What?" He snapped, searching for where the male voice was coming.

Before he realized, his lips was attacked by another pair of lips. They were warm, soft, and a bit wet. The owner licked his lips and asked entrance for his mouth. To his astonishment, he granted him entrance and let him kissed him senseless. To the extent that his knees buckled under his weight. At the same time, a pair of hands had went into his soft curls and grabbed a handful of him.

"Enough!" He pushed away and went into the night.


	11. Round 6 Drabble

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Word Count: 783

Category: Drabble

Prompt: [Speech] "I don't want any tricks or treats this year."

I don't want to officially say it's an incest ffn as godfather and godson. No, I want you to see it in your own way. You can consider their case only a way for Sirius to get the alcohol. For me, it's more like the incest thing. I know it's taboo, but it seems the only thing I haven't tried in this collection. After homosexual, after human and creature, and all that. Just, hope you like this.

**忘记****Mr. Right****爱****Mr. Wrong****一次**

The upcoming Halloween was making Harry agitated. This was the first Halloween he could spend with his godfather. After defeating Voldemort, he had revived Sirius from the veil, and testified on the court that this man was innocent.

During the summer, they had been arguing about whether Harry should go back to Hogwarts. Sirius insisted that he should get a diploma, which would be helpful for his future career. According to him, it would be good to know Harry's completed his study, and become a graduate "officially". Maybe it is his "death" that make him different from his old self. Hermione had, of course, agreed with this, and said Harry should learn more in Hogwarts. Harry himself, however, had not fanthomed this idea. Ron had already gone to Auror training, and he felt should go with him. What was the point in learning in Hogwarts when he couldn't pass his Potions exams (which, coincidentally, was crucial for an Auror). He had enough fame now to get him a job in the ministry, so why should he go back and learn something he couldn't ever get better at?

Even though professor Snape had left him the bottle of memory, he found it hard to love Potions a bit. The subject still make him scratching his head.

At the last, he conceded. He knew he couldn't argue with Sirius and Hermione combined, one too emotional and the other too intelligent. Not to mention both of them were so obsessed with this idea and wouldn't ever give it up.

The eighth years were allowed to go home whenever they would like to. But, in the past two months, Harry had never been to see his godfather. Even when Sirius went to Hogwarts to visit him, he refused to land his eyes on the man.

Oh, how he missed him!

He was on the edge of breaking down, because of his love for him, his missing for him, and his anger towards him. That was why he decided to go back in Halloween.

He couldn't take it any longer, and he felt it was high time to meet that man.

On that day, he set off quite early, before 6 o'clock. The only reason he gave himself was he couldn't get more sleep, and he was as well leaving as soon as he was out of bed. He had nothing to do in his dormitory anyway.

That might be why when he arrived at Grimmauld 12 Sirius hadn't already got up. The man was lying on the couch, with a coat draped over his body. There was an empty bottle on the floor, just beneath his right hand.

"Sirius?" Harry whispered, not expecting to wake him up. He only wanted to know whether he was conscious or not.

"Urgh?" The man let out a shaky breath, trying to sit up straight.

"You got drunk once again?" Shaking his head, Harry waved his wand to clean the mess.

When he looked back at the black haired man, the elder wizard was staring at him like he was seeing ghost.

"What?" He scratched the back of his neck, and shivered under the man's gaze.

"You're back." The man said breathily.

Nodding, he helped him get up and put him in a seat at the table.

"Breakfast is ready. I'll call Dobby to bring it to us. " Harry put the dishes away and called the elf.

"Dobby, can you bring us the breakfast and a refreshing potion?"

"Of course, my honour, Harry Potter sir." The elf bowed and left.

A second latter, he appeared with two trays and the potion.

"Have a nice day. Master Sirius, master Harry." Dobby was humming when he disappeared.

"I didn't know you were coming back." Sirius told the young man, a bottle of firewhiskey from his cabinet. "Let's have some fun."

"No more alcohol!" Harry put it away, and nibbled on the scrambled eggs on his plate.

"To our reunion!" Sirius had another thought on this matter.

"I said no more alcohol!" Harry shouted at him, only regretting it a moment later.

"I didn't mean it. I know I am bad-tempered, I should have…" He had been trying all his might to control his temper after the war, but everything about Sirius always get him out of control.

Then, he received a kiss on the lips, smelling like alcohol.

"Got you there, kid." The man looked smug, and he poured some firewhiskey into a cup.

"To our reunion! We can have our Halloween together!" He smirked. "Tricks or treats?"

"I don't want any tricks or treats this year." Harry grinned brightly at the elder man.

"Oh, what do you want then?"

"Only you."


	12. Round 6 Standard

House: Ravenclaw

Class: Potions

Word Count: 1238

Category: Standard

Prompt: [Romantic Pairing] Lily Potter/ James Potter

I think it should be a sweet ending at the end of this collection. So, it's kind of bitter-sweet. But, in the world of our imagination, we can always imagine all the Potters had survived. That's what I love about ffns. This is by far the shortest standard I've ever write, but, in my opinion, it is ended at the place I want it to end.

I don't want to involve a lot about their past as I know little of it.

Also, I hope they had both forgiven Sev before their deaths.

**直到共你度过多灾世纪**

They had been hiding in Godric's Hollow for a month now. A month without any of James' friends to visit them. A month without going out, not even to buy a shirt for little Harry. No, everything they need was sent by Dumbledore through his unique way—apparanting an owl here.

They had got fed up with this life, they couldn't endure it any longer. Yet, they felt fortunate that they weren't already caught by Voldemort. Rumors had that Voldemort was getting irritated more and more over the last month. So, if hiding here, disconnected with the rest of the world, meant the three of them would be safe, even if only for now, it would be worth it.

Lily Potter looked out of the window, where she could see a couple walking arm in arm. It was getting cold these days, she could see that from their wearing—long sleeves and gloves, even scarfs. She knew old people were likely to feel colder, still, when they had been able to go out, she was wearing skirts!

She hated to realize how much time she had spent in this little house, couldn't ever go out. It seemed the best way was getting them "prisoned". Sighing, she went to look for the kettle. They should have something to drink now.

When they were first told they were targeted by one of the most powerful wizard (and one of the darkest), they had lumps their throat. They would never have tea, instead, one of them was at the door, constantly waiting for the man. Hoping against hope it would take him by accident to attack him behind the door.

Then, finally, they got tired out and began doubting when would all this end. It might take a minute from then, a month, or, years. They should have their own life.

They shouldn't let Voldemort know that he had no need to go after them because they would end up mad someday in the future. And, there was also Harry. Harry should have his normal life, as their child.

"Tea time." James Potter walked into the kitchen, stealing a biscuit, and licked his fingers.

"It's not for you." Lily Potter didn't have to look back to know what he had just done.

"Then who is it for? I know you know I love raspberries!" James cuddled her from behind, and put his right hand in front of her face. "Want to taste it?"

"Get away." Lily pushed him away to get one biscuit for herself.

"Emmh, do you think Harry would like it?" She considered for a moment, tilting her head to reveal a side of her neck.

"Harry's my son." James grinned and kissed her on the lips, while he didn't forget his main target.

Picking up three biscuits together and was about to put them into his mouth, a hand took all the food away.

"It's for Harry, your son!" Lily glared at him.

"Isn't he too little to eat this? The ruffled haired man questioned the woman.

"One of the books had a spell to make baby eat something he may not can, that can be used once a month. I only discovered that yesterday, so I think…" The emerald eyed woman trailed off by the man.

They shared another kiss.

"Thank you for thinking about my favorite food when you want to test it out. " James murmured, and dragged his witch threw the corridor to their bedroom.

"What are you waiting for? Let's see whether he like it or not. " The man with glasses pinched up a biscuit and bring it to little Harry.

"Little Prongs, do you like raspberries? Say yes and bite into it." The baby blinked his eyes, and reached out for the biscuit.

"No!" Lily stopped the man quickly when she realized she had forgotten all about the spell.

"We need to do the spell first. He need to grow some tooth for this." Before she finished, she waved her wand and casted the spell.

"Of course, my fault. " James grunted.

Harry looked puzzled even more, though he had all his attention on the biscuit.

"Harry can't wait!" The man grinned like a fool, and put it in the baby's hand.

Little Prongs bite a little bit of it, and chewed. Then, he slowly chewed up all of that biscuit.

"I think he like it, Lily!" James wielded around and hugged his wife.

"Congratulations." The woman exhaled his scent, feeling her whole body relaxed, and her mood much better than before.

Cough. Cough.

"No, no, no." Harry cried, his puffy face bright red, and his whole body were covered with red scratches.

"No way he's allergic to raspberries. " James tried to recover from the shock that his son was allergic to his favorite fruit.

"Maybe it's something else, I think." After running the spell, Lily admitted sheepishly.

"What's the problem then?" James was staring at the scratches, hoping to find out some clue. In their current state, Harry getting ill meant big trouble.

"I put some powder in this, to help him digest. I'm afraid even under the spell he couldn't digest well, so I… Anyway, I only remembered right now that they shouldn't be eaten together with raspberries. Severus had found that in our third year, though the company who sold it never admitted."

"And what's now?" James asked this question and answered himself by calling out his patronus. "Headmaster, Harry's eaten something wrong and isn't feeling well. Lily said that Severus Snape might know what to do. Can you let us contact him?"

"You would like to contact Severus?" The witch's eyes was wide open.

"Only for Harry." James touched his son, using his fingertip. The baby was crying louder than a second ago.

"Sorry, baby boy." He kissed him on the temple.

"What did you give Harry?" Dumbledore rushed in from the fireplace.

"Raspberry with Digesting powder." Lily stated, showing him the powder.

"Oh, I can deal with that, thank merlin." Dumbledore walked in and casted a few spells.

Harry stopped crying at once, and his skin was back to normal the second after.

"Thank you, Headmaster." James thanked the man again and again before he left the house.

"That was making my adrenaline up!" James claimed, came back standing beside his son's cradle.

"I shouldn't make this stupid mistake." Lily regretted.

"Nah, it's not your fault." James kissed her on the temple.

"Hey, don't treat me like you son." Lily blew out the hair in front of eyes.

"I've been treating you like this when Harry hadn't come to us yet." The man smirked and leaned in to kiss her on the lips.

"So, did that mean you want, this?"

"Get off from me." Lily were using both of her hands to push him away.

"Fine." The man's shoulders slumped and sank into the sofa.

The witch sat down beside him. "Nothing urgent today."

"I'm happy that we get to know what Harry like!" The wizard said, obviously still in a state of ecstatic.

"Yeah, I'm happy about that too. Maybe we should write it down." She took out some parchment and a quill.

Our baby son, Harry Potter, also called Little Prongs, LOVES raspberries.

"Do you think we can give him this one day?" Lily looked up at her husband.

"I'm sure of it. We'll survive. All of us will." The wizard assured her.


End file.
